Stumble into Darkness
by Odella
Summary: Takes place right after Sam had stabbed Shelob. Frodo is cold and lifeless.


Note: All the dialogue is taken from the last chapter of The Two Towers; The choices of Master Samwise and is the estate of J.R.R Tolkien. 

When I inhale, I can feel the taste, that wonderful scent of your hair. Of rosemary and rain.   
I bury my face in your hair to escape your cold face, trying frantically to warm your icy hands  
with my own, rubbing them, kissing them, clasping them. I kneel beside you when the gravitation   
gets too heavy on my shoulders, makes me wrap my arms around you to warm you._ I have to get you   
warm, my foal. _I look up at you through the thick fog of ashes and dust; draw circles in your face  
with my grimy hands that are in contrast to your pale face features.   
  
_Please Frodo._

I press my hands to your chest, embrace your head and hug you. Fiercely. Your heart has gone   
silent inside your body, and I hear myself cursing the offspring of Ungoliant because your body   
is cold, numb. Dead. My hands shake when they hold yours but I manage to keep still for your   
sake. You don't want to see your Sam in this condition, now, do you? I lie down next to you and   
press my body against yours; I will remain here by your side until there is only dust and powder   
left of you and your beautiful, brown hair. I cry in silence and kiss your thin, pale lips; I   
bite and nibble them until they are coloured by your own blood, as to wake you, my Frodo. 

I whisper in your ear, little promises of love and dreams and other nonsense that I thought   
I had forgotten about long ago. I feel the ashes and the bile burn in my throat but it does   
not trouble me anymore; I have slipped into oblivion. You are lying lifeless with your head   
rolled to the side, pale as the light of Eärendil that still glows in my hand, silent, as if   
you feared the disciple of death. _With the scythe in his hand, he shall stand and wait for you,_  
I hear the voice of my Gaffer in my head, I remember when he once sat by the fireplace and told me stories about   
revenge and death. He did not know what I do now, about you. Please, Frodo, will you not open your  
eyes? 

_I can feel myself, deep inside of your when you writhe and moan underneath me, and I fill you   
with my seed, my flesh, my heart, my blood. I kiss your face, shining with sweat and tears of   
joy and bliss. Open your eyes, light my path again for it is dead and cold and dark now, and I   
shall forever breathe your air into my lungs. You bleed like the spring, me dear, when buds break   
and bloom._

When I think, the darkness around me seems deeper, almost black. Like a bottomless hole. Your   
face is still shining in the darkness and I caress every single line, slowly, to memorise,   
to remember if I ever return. Your golden eyebrows; the wrinkle in your chin, the soft shape   
of your mouth, and somewhere in my recollection, I see you; the youngster in the gardens of Bag   
End, with velvet clothes and light blue star-eyes. You remind me of play, children, clouds heavy   
with rain, the damp smell of green, healthy plants and deep seas where the mysteries dwell. 

"What shall I do...?" I whisper and kiss the base of your throat, "Did I come all this way with  
him for nothing?" Is my love lost? Cursed and left to despair? Like a bolt of lighting,   
something penetrates the pit of my stomach and I see the contours of the Ring underneath   
your shirt. It whispers in a voice filled with lust and passion, lures me, _come to me,   
little hobbit. You who have lost everything the sun set eyes on. What is it for you now,   
when all hope is dead?_

When I look at you, I know what I must do. I suddenly feel how everything clears, like clouds on   
a heavenly blue sky, as if you have made the decision for me. I know now. I feel how a part of me   
I never thought I had, becomes solid, like a rock, somewhere within. A power of iron, of   
determination, buried in the very bones of my body. A power that makes me sit up, lay your hands   
against your chest after I have kissed your fingers, one by one, and caressed your all too slim   
cheeks for the last time. But I feel no hatred. Only an enormous fatigue that overwhelms me, but   
also makes me strong. It is you, Frodo, who live and thrive in me. Like a foetus in my memory,   
I know you will follow me. 

"I wish I wasn't the last," I say out loud, "I wish old Gandalf was here or somebody. Why am I   
left all alone to make up my mind? I'm sure to go wrong. And it's not for me to taking the Ring,   
putting myself forward." I close my eyes until I see your reflection before me in the clear water   
of Lothlórien, how your body moved under the surface and the sounds that escaped your throat   
when my body welded with yours. 

I don't remember speaking, but my mouth is open and the words are already cooling on my tongue.   
"Then take It, it is!" I hear myself saying, but it is like the voice belongs to someone else.   
I unbutton your shirt slowly, pretend that you are just resting, waiting for me to come to bed.   
I imagine myself unbuttoning your shirt because we are to make love, not because I am to take the  
ring from you, something I would never do unless you were gone, long gone, cold and stiff and...  
I feel the sorrow again, and I grasp you, to ensure that you are there. That you were not just an  
imagination, an illusion that my mind created to put away for rainy days. 

"Goodbye, beloved," I whisper, because those words are for your ears only, "Forgive your Sam.   
He'll come back to this spot when the job's done - if he manages it." I look at him where he   
lies, "And then he'll never leave you again." I take your sword, Sting; it's cold steel shining  
dull in the deep darkness, and I stick it in my empty sheath. 

When I put the chain around my neck, my knees bend until they almost touch the ground and the   
gold that burns in my flesh also surrounds my soul; like a thick wall of stone I can feel its   
power. But I can also feel the light; your white light, that refuses to diminish or be put out   
and I arise from my position to stand up on staggering legs. _My love is stronger than the gold of   
this ring, more beautiful than the chain that binds it. _

I turn around to lay my eyes on you; your residual glow has not yet faltered and I see how it   
shines through you as if you were the Son of the sun himself. I will see you on the blue quilt,   
my friend, against the dark vault above when the sun sets, and I shall think of you then. When   
the stars show their glittering faces, I shall remember you and bring you out of the darkness.   
You can hide inside me, if you want to. _I am in love with you; the master of my heart._

The darkness falls around me when I start walking again down the depths of my own vertiginous   
fear and fright. The sharp rocks under my feet cut and scratch my feet when I stumble on into the  
black night. I know that I will fail myself in here, as I have failed you.   
I will lose my way in here. 

If you do not shine for me. 

  


  



End file.
